Fear in a Handful of Dust
by Silly Little Sparrow
Summary: When Hermione Granger finds a man she had thought to be a traitor on her doorstep, she becomes the unwilling traveler of a world she never imagined could exist--a world of shadow and legend where each step is fraught with danger.
1. A Breath of Winter

**Summary:** Seventeen-year old Hermione Granger is home for a quiet Christmas with her parents. When she finds a man she had thought to be a traitor on her doorstep, Hermione becomes the unwilling traveler of a world she never imagined could exist--a world of shadow and legend, where each step is fraught with danger.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, and this probably will not change for the duration of this story.

* * *

**Chapter One: A Breath of Winter  
**

There was something in the snowy air that made the dogs restless. Hermione shifted the heavy book in her lap and frowned. The two wolfhounds were pacing by the windows of the living room, hackles raised. Every now and again one of them would emit a low whine that caused the hairs on Hermione's neck to prickle. Unease took her as the wind whistled hollowly through the skeletal oaks outside. Her father glanced up from his newspaper and whistled softly. "A storm's coming, sure as the night. I don't think I've seen weather like this for years."

Snapping the tome shut, Hermione crept to one of the windows and peered out. "The dogs know something's up. Are we set for food and everything?"

"Yup. Your mother did a massive shopping run earlier today. You know how she likes to worry," he said winking. "We should be fine."

"Hmm." There was no precipitation yet as far as Hermione could tell, but the familiar trees and streets looked _wrong_ somehow, as though she was seeing them through a distorted crystal. Crossing the room again, Hermione yawned as she began gathering her school papers and books. "Think I'll head up for bed." She smiled. "Love you, Daddy."

Her father stood and kissed the top of her curls. "Good night, sweetheart. Come and wake your mother and me if you decide to have a midnight snack." He grinned at her and settled back down to finish his paper.

Hermione threw a fond look over her shoulder as she headed for the staircase. Much as she missed Hogwarts, it was good to be home. She and her dad had always been especially close, even up through her teen years when most other girls grew aloof and began distancing themselves from their parents. Hermione smiled again. Not that she was most girls.

Once in her room, Hermione deposited her schoolwork on her desk. Most of it was fairly simple for her to complete, and all she had left to do before term started was to practice some wand movements for Charms. Biting her lip, she checked her planner to be sure she hadn't missed a Transfiguration essay or Arithmancy chart. Finally satisfied that she was on target, Hermione drew back the heavy covers on her bed and slipped in, sighing gratefully at the warmth. She had thought to catch up on some light reading before turning out her light, but her eyes began to close the minute she hit the sheets, and she was out before she knew it.

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes some hours later, realizing she had forgotten to switch off her lamp. Groaning, she rolled over and tried to block the glare with her pillow. It didn't work. "Merlin's pants," she muttered, sitting up. She was about to step into her slippers when bizarrely, it occurred to her that something might try and grab her ankle from under the bed. Fully awake now, Hermione pulled the blankets more closely around her, suddenly terrified. Now she thought about it, there was an eerie cast to her closet, too...something terrible lurked in the silence of her familiar room, she was certain. What if she suddenly heard something breathing right behind her?

But Hermione Granger wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. "Come now, Hermione." She chided herself. "Stop acting a child." She swallowed and slowly slid her feet to the floor, pulling on her wool slippers, heart beating out a hole in her chest. When nothing came out of the darkness beneath her bed, she got up, grabbed her wand from her desk and padded downstairs, leaving the light on in her room.

After a few minutes, Hermione felt a bit better. She had started a fire that was now crackling merrily in the hearth, and put on some water for hot tea. But when she settled on the sofa to wait for the water to boil, the fire threw long grinning shadows against the walls. She gripped her wand tightly in her pocket, unable to shake the odd feeling that this was no ordinary storm.

She was just checking the pot when a gust of wind blew a hard object repeatedly against her door. Shrugging, she was about to rummage in the cupboard for some chamomile when she froze. That wasn't the wind at her door.

Someone was pounding desperately, trying to get inside.

More alert than she had ever been, Hermione palmed her wand. "Who is it?" She called, moving warily to the entrance.

A wheezing, gasping sound met her ears. "Please, let me in! I...just please!" Hermione bit her lip. She was no fool, she knew not to let in strangers. The pounding didn't cease. "Please!" came the choked cry. "Open the door!" There was a note of terrible urgency in the person's voice. "I really shouldn't..." she said. But nonetheless, Hermione slid back the deadbolt and cracked open the heavy wooden door. "Who are y--". Her jaw slackened. The man kneeling on her front porch looked an awful lot like...

"You!" She gasped, fumbling her wand. "What do you want here?" Hermione demanded, breathing hard. She brandished her wand threateningly in his face.

But the man was looking behind himself, clearly panic-stricken. He turned back to her. Shock outlined his pale features briefly when he saw who it was. "Miss Granger," he began, holding out his empty hands. "Please. Things are not as you think...just let me in, I can explain everything."

"Explain why you betrayed the Order? Oh, I know why, you traitor. I know why you killed Dum--"

"I'm not a traitor and I shall tell you everything, just let me inside, please, before it's too late!"

Hermione shook her head. "I was the one who trusted you before. I fought with Harry and Ron, I swore Dumbledore knew what he--"

"Hermione Granger, you insufferable girl!" He bellowed. A quality in his voice made her stop. "Please," the man murmured in a gentler tone. "I know you to be fair-minded. Things are not what they seem. But we are not alone in this darkness, and you must allow me inside. _Please_..."

She stared at him for a heartbeat, taking in his bloodshot eyes, ragged cloak, and the white anguished face she had once known so well. Then she backed away from the entrance, motioning him inside. The man stumbled in gratefully after her, but Hermione kept her wand trained fiercely on him.

"Close the door and lock it," she ordered, though she suspected he would have gladly anyway. "Now turn around," she said when he had finished. The man did so, leaning against the door for support. Their eyes met for a breathless instant before he fell to his knees, weariness etching deep lines on his face.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. You have my gratitude..." When he fell forward. Hermione sighed and quickly caught him in her arms. Together, they managed to stumble to the sofa. The man managed a weak grin. "I didn't think you'd help me," he slurred.

"Well you're hardly in a place to fight me, and I have a feeling I'd be dead already if you wanted it. What are you running from, anyway, Severus Snape?"

"Shadows," he mumbled, eyes dangerously close to closing. "They have my wand, and I can't stop them."

She raised an eyebrow. "In a Muggle neighborhood?"

"Magic is the milleau of a Shadow. Without it, they are confused, unable to function..."

"_That's_ why you needed to get inside. There's--"

"Magic lingering outside, even in a Muggle residence. You _are_ a quick girl, aren't you?"

She rolled her eyes, but then a sudden thought made Hermione stiffen. "Hang on a minute..._I_ practice magic...you were surprised when you saw me, Professor, you didn't--"

Long fingers had suddenly snaked out and found the vulnerable part of her neck. Hermione fell limp. "Didn't think of that," said the man called Severus Snape hoarsely. Grimacing in pain, he groped for her wand, and throwing his arms tightly around the girl, disappeared from sight with a loud _crack_.

Upstairs in the master bedroom, Mr. Granger awoke to the sound of a whistling kettle. "Hermione," he called, not waking his wife beside him. "Hermione, I think the water's done. I'll be down in a second." He rolled gently off the bed so as not to rouse the sleeping woman, stuffed his arms into a dressing gown, and headed down the wooden stairs.

"For goodness' sake my girl, turn off that kettle!" He said laughing. But when he rounded the corner, no one was there.

* * *

Some deep instinct made Hermione wake in silence. She was lying in a bed, and there was a man sprawled next to her. Confusion made her head swim. She sat up. Hermione remembered going down to make tea, something about a storm, and...

Hardly daring to breath, Hermione turned her head to examine the man beside her. It was Severus Snape. She groaned softly. What had possessed her to let him in to her home? Snape, a traitor to the Order and the murderer of Albus Dumbledore. Not to mention countless others. This man who had once been her professor. A Death Eater.

But then what was she doing here in this...cabin? Shack? And what had Snape so panicked? Hermione tilted her head, still gazing at the apparently unconscious man. Nothing made sense: he'd Apparated her against her will, but hadn't it been...hadn't it been to protect them both? He had mentioned something about Shadows, and something in the way he said the word made Hermione think it with a capital S. Shadows that weren't merely caused by the absence or blockage of light.

She had sensed something terrible lurking in the darkness. Could that be it?

She inched closer to Snape. Hoping he wouldn't stir, she pulled her wand free from his lax fingers. She felt better with the wood in her hand.

After a final glance at her companion, Hermione rose from the bed, wishing she wore more than pajamas and a dressing gown. They were in a one-room cabin, with a bed, a table and some chairs, and a small stove and fireplace. Through the single window, Hermione could see that snow was falling thickly on the trees around them. There was no sign of other civilization, no cars or roads or tracks. Just forest.

Logically, Hermione knew that she'd likely freeze to death if she strayed outside. But intuition warned her not to leave the cabin, to not even touch the door. _Something_ was out there, waiting.

_Shadows_, he'd said._ They have my wand, and I can't stop them_.

Hermione shivered. She had to think of something else.

With her exploration complete, she could come up with nothing else to do, so she ventured closer to the man in the bed. Severus Snape. In sleep his face seemed more relaxed, his mouth slightly open. His breath came harshly, almost painfully. Judging by his haggard appearance, she guessed he'd been running for a long time. When shivered under the heavy blankets, Hermione felt a small unwilling bubble of pity.

She wasn't aware she was staring until Severus Snape's eyes fluttered open. They looked at one another for a long moment, before Hermione broke eye contact and sat on the bed.

"You're awake."

"I would appear to be so." His voice, though cracked and thin, sounded amused.

"Are we safe here?"

"Not particularly. But the Shadows cannot get inside, if that's what you mean.

She toyed with questions in her mind, trying to think of a way to ask them. Deciding to be blunt, she looked at his face. "I need answers. You can't just kill my headmaster, be a Death Eater, waltz in to my home and mumble something about Shadows or whatever and then Apparate me out and expect me to be fine with being left in the dark." She spilled this all out very fast, and then realized she had ran out of breath several words ago.

Snape raised an eyebrow. Hermione glowered back.

"I won't begrudge you an explanation, Miss Granger," he said softly. "I told you as much in your home."

"I--oh. Okay, then."

"But first, I suggest you start a fire. Conjuring flames is a specialty of yours, is it not?"

She opened her mouth. Then closed it. "I'm sorry...I just thought you said Shadows were attracted to magic, so I didn't start one..."

His eyes crinkled. "It was a good thought, Miss Granger. But we should be fine."

His words were an eerie echo of her father's just a few hours earlier, and she had to hide her face. As she bent to the hearth, Hermione couldn't help wonder how he knew fires were her specialty. Then again, she supposed she'd always known that Severus Snape was a very, very observant man.

She settled down on the bed, as far away from the man as she could, and fixed him with a piercing stare. "Well?"

He sighed. "This shall be difficult. Where should I start? Back when"--he winced--"when Albus died? Or why we're here?"

"Explaining those Shadow-things would be a good start. Or tell me why you murdered Professor Dumbledore. I don't care. Just explain."

Snape sighed. "Very well. But I warn you," he paused, searching for words. "I warn you that there are some things even I do not understand yet. However," he held out a hand to stop Hermione's retort. "However, I shall do my best.

"I learned many years ago that Voldemort wasn't an easy master. If a task wasn't performed to his standards--or, Merlin forbid, if one _failed_ at anything--well, let's just say the consequences would be severe. I am a Death Eater, Miss Granger. But I am also a spy for the Order, and that can put me in a very sticky position, as you might guess.

"By the end of your sixth year at Hogwarts, things had changed. I reported to Albus that Voldemort was becoming antsy, for no apparent reason. He began to lose control on occasions, and tortured his followers for pleasure, something he'd always avoided in the past. Voldemort was becoming obscenely paranoid, in short. The causes behind this, I'm afraid, remain a mystery.

"But the Dark Lord is brilliant still. He devised a new method of controlling us, his faithful Death Eaters. Many magical creatures share our world, as I'm sure you're aware. We know of many, but possibly even more creatures are unknown to us. Shadows are one example of such beings. Well somehow Voldemort discovered them. Or created them. Who knows? Anyway, once loosed upon a witch or wizard, they...they appear to possess him or her...almost as though they take over the mind itself.

"And when the Dark Lord set them on me, I experienced a feeling of elation...so much power, so much..._want_!" Snape frowned, lost in thought. "I remember my actions then. I remember the look in Albus' eyes when I came to him that night..."

Hermione squirmed. This was absurd, of course...but pieces began fitting together. Harry had told her that Snape seemed different, that he had glimpsed a flash of scarlet in his eyes...they had both agreed it was the evil in him. What if it was something far more sinister? And Snape as a spy...well. They had already guessed at that.

The man continued his account brokenly, and the bubble of pity Hermione had felt earlier expanded in her chest. "Anyway, I remember what I did, but my feelings were not my own. I wasn't myself...and I think I didn't know the things I know. There was simply this urge in me: Complete the task. Try to understand, I was me, but I _wasn't_ me."

"Did Voldemort release you once it was done?" Hermione asked, trembling.

Snape's eyes were black a sable and held an intensity that frightened her. "He did. And then I knew, of course, what I had done. Could you live with yourself, Miss Granger? Knowing you murdered your only friend, your only hope, in cold blood?"

She didn't trust herself to speak.

"No," he mused. "No one can. It's part of our humanity, that our actions are our own. That we _choose_." His eyes grew distant. "I am immune to many poisons, and even to Veritaserum. I can resist the Imperius curse...and as for the Cruciatus...well, I can withstand that, too. But to _desire_ that which my soul abhors, Miss Granger..._that_ is true agony.

"So to continue the story, I shall say, to put it simply, that my true allegiance was discovered. I am spy no more. I managed to escape, against all probability. But naturally, Voldemort set those things after me."

His haunted blazing gaze had traveled back to Hermione, and he seemed at once proud and ashamed, unyielding and vulnerable. "I am a hunted man...a fugitive of both the Light and the Dark. Will you seek vengeance on me now, Miss Granger? I am a traitor, a murderer, a Death Eater. Would you deliver me to the Shadows? Would you weep for my death?" His voice had fallen to a dark whisper that pierced her soul. She knew then, deep in her bones, that the man had been entirely truthful, at a terrible cost.

She met his gaze levelly, and then said clearly: "I believe you, Professor Snape. I believe you." There was a pause in which Hermione attempted to gather her emotions. "Now, how do we fight these things off? What's the next step?"

His expression didn't exactly change, but for a moment, Severus Snape's eyes spoke of such a deep, soul-shattering relief that seemed so intimate Hermione couldn't breath. Briefly, she thought to touch his cheek, but then the hardness was back in him, and Hermione knew that she would never again feel pity for Severus Snape. Sorrow, perhaps, or pain. But now the respect she felt for this man was too great to ever be counted as pity.

So when he finally spoke, Hermione straightened her back and listened.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! If you like it, leave a review and I'll continue the story.

Oh, and I found the title in _The Waste Land_ by T. S. Eliot.

Cheers,  
Vanya Khaleesi


	2. Grasps Hope in the Night

_Author's note: thank you to everyone who left comments. It's always nice to hear some feedback :-)_

* * *

**Chapter Two: Grasps Hope in the Night**

_  
The window weight throbs in its blind  
partition. To extinguish what I have of faith.  
Yes, light. And it is always  
always, always the eternal rainbow  
And it is always the day, the farewell day unkind_.  
~Hart Crane

The storm hadn't let up by the morning. Hermione rolled off her side of the bed in the early dawn to replenish the fire. Gooseflesh rose on her arms with the chill. When the task was done, she went and looked out the window. The skeletal trees, now garbed with a thick sheen of white, seemed utterly wild and ancient to her. Like in the fairy stories she'd read as a child.

_Snow White ran blindly through the darkening woods, fleeing from the huntsman close behind_.

Were the Shadows there watching her, invisible in the snow? She imagined them gathering and circling round the cottage, lying in wait for one of them to step outside.

_"Cut out her heart so that I know she's dead, bring me her liver and lungs," whispered the wicked queen, and the huntsman had flown after the princess_.

What was to be her undoing? A poisoned comb or an apple? Was it the huntsman coming for her?

_He stood behind her, the wicked edge of the blade poised at her throat_.

Hermione heard a wordless cry behind her.

It was Snape, and from the looks of it, he had tried to get out of bed, then fallen to the floor. She flew to his side, worry lining her brow.

"Professor? Professor Snape?" She slung one of his arms over her shoulder and helped him to the bed, where he collapsed, breathing erratic. His hands were trembling badly, she noted, and a gloss of sweat covered his face.

"What's happening?" She asked. He'd seemed stronger last night.

He closed his eyes as his head fell back on the pillow. "I'm dying, Hermione."

She felt his forehead. "You're burning up. You have a fever, that's all."

Even in his poor state, Snape managed half a smirk. "Ever the optimist, I see. Well you're wrong." He groaned suddenly as a spasm passed over his face.

"What should I do?" Hermione cried. "I'm sorry, I don't know how to stop the pain, Professor." She watched, frozen and helpless, as the muscles of his body contracted and contorted.

And then...as suddenly as the fit appeared, it vanished. Snape grimaced, breathing hard. "Water, Hermione," he murmured hoarsely.

She conjured a mug from thin air. "Aguamenti," she whispered hastily, directing the clear flow of water into the cup. Then she held Snape's head and brought the mug to his lips. He drank but a little, and winced when he swallowed. Hermione cast aside the mug, and quickly placed pillows behind him so he might be able to sit up a while.

At last he turned to her. "I thank you." He sounded gruff, but that might have been due to the pain.

She shook her head. "What was that about? I thought you might be seizing or something."

"I was--in a manner of speaking, that is. I can feel some of the Shadow still within me...I suspect my body is trying to reject it."

"A piece of the Shadow still inside you!" Hermione exclaimed. Then, afraid, she asked, "Will it take over your mind?"

"Not as far as I can tell. It's just a fragment of a fragment. Nothing more."

His words did little to reassure her, but she decided to let it rest. "Oh. You seem better now."

"I feel better. It may be the worst right after I wake in the morning." Seeing the question in her eyes, he continued softly, "I am...I am closer to my dreams then. The Shadows hold more sway in that realm."

Hermione digested these words for a while, turning them over in her mind. "Then couldn't we just take a potion? Dreamless Sleep, perhaps?"

"I suppose that would do. The Shadows can't affect you, though. Not yet, in any case," he added flatly.

"It's not me I'm worried about." She risked a sideways glance at him.

He scoffed, turning his head away from her gaze. "You should be worried. You ought to be _terrified_. You don't understand what these things can do to witches and wizards."

"What do you mean?" She rose off the bed, and stood facing him. Some dark, terrible thing in his voice caught her attention. "Wait a second, what are you getting at?"

He paused, dark eyes searching her face. "You haven't asked to leave. You have a wand. Don't you want to just Apparate out?"

The man's face was unreadable, though Hermione felt a high-strung tension in him. What was going on in his head? She nodded uncertainly. "I could Apparate away, that's true."

"Ah." Snape seemed nonchalant, but his gaze never left her face. "Well then? What's stopping you?"

"I just can't, that's all."

"Why?"

"Well I couldn't just leave you, could I?" Hermione burst out. "You're a good man, aren't you? And you need my help, that's clear enough. Anyway," she said, sobering. "You think you're dying. I'd be a fool to leave now. Who knows what you might get into?"

"I'm dying. What could be worse than that?" He replied, a grim smile dancing on his features.

"I'm trying to _help_ you!" Hermione cried. "You need me, admit it. How can you take care of yourself like this?"

"Perhaps I'd die in peace then," he responded quickly, smile fading. Then a faraway breeze touched his face and he turned away. "There's nothing you can do to stop it now, anyway."

Hermione snapped her fingers in front of Snape's face to gain his attention. "_Stop saying that_! The two of us have more than enough brain-power to work something out! Stop...stop _waiting_ to die!"

"Why should I?" He growled back. Then all the energy seemed to evaporate from him, and he rested his head back on his pillows. "I've been waiting to die for a long time."

"No!" She said, hating the shrillness in her voice. "I won't let you. I...I _forbid_ you!"

"Stop that, girl. It's time you grew up." He flapped his hand dismissively at her.

Hermione threw up her hands. "Fine! Then maybe I _will_ leave and I'll _never_ come back!"

The anger she'd hoped for never came. Instead, the man who had been her professor turned on his side, looking obstinately away.

Hermione leaned back against the wall and sank to the floor. What was wrong with him? She'd been trying to _help_ the man. She slipped her wand from her robe's sleeve and began twirling it absently in her hand, trying to work it out. Did he resent that she'd seen him be weak? Did he wish he were stuck with someone else?

"It's too late for that," came his soft sad voice.

_That_ got her attention. She blinked. "What? What do you mean? Too late for what?"

Severus sighed. "I told you Shadows are attracted to magic. The moment they sensed you Apparate, they'd be on you like a ton of bricks."

"Then...then why did you ask me if I wanted to leave?"

Severus Snape was silent. He drank her in with his eyes, the blackness boring into Hermione until she wanted to look away. His features...at school, they were always contorted into a bitter grimace or a nasty smirk that meant punishment was coming. Even now his shadowed gaze made her uncomfortable...but it also set her heart jack hammering against her ribs in a way it never did at Hogwarts. _Why does he want me to go away_?

And then, the realization shattered.

Hermione sat back on the bed, twisting her hands. She took a deep breath. "I wasn't going to Apparate out, Professor. Not really. And I'm going to stay with you until we figure this out." She hesitated, then covered his hand with her own. "I'm going to save you," she whispered. "I promise you that, Severus."

It was the first time she'd called him that. Severus made a movement, as though he wanted to cup her cheek, but then thought better of it. Instead, he stroked the side of her hand with a finger. "It's dangerous," he said quietly. "Though I suspect that's never stopped you before."

Hermione laughed weakly. Then she stood, stuffed her wand in her dressing gown sleeve again. "I suppose you're right."

* * *

"I already looked, Severus. The oven is empty."

"Look again, Hermione."

She _harrumphed_, but crossed the wooden floor and swung open the oven door. "See, there's noth--ah. Well. Are you fond of porridge?" She scooped out the large bowl that had mysteriously appeared and placed it on the table. "I'm guessing bowls and spoons might suddenly appear in this lovely wooden chest? Oh yes," she muttered, finding them. "Brilliant."

She missed the smile that ghosted over the man's face.

"So what is this place?" She asked while handing him a spoon and bowl.

Severus smirked, and for a moment, Hermione thought, he seemed his old self.

"My, my. The cleverest witch of her age doesn't even have a guess? No?"

Hermione set the porridge out, and filled up her bowl with oats and fruit. "Just tell me," she replied, trying to hide her exasperation.

"Very well. This cottage was created for me by Albus Dumbledore. It provides the inhabitant with whatever it believe he truly requires. Oh yes," he added, seeing her shocked expression. "It would appear that Albus thought of just about everything in advance."

"He couldn't have known about the Shadows back then?" Hermione gasped.

His eyes crinkled in the way that meant he was amused. "No, of course not."

"Then...how come the wards prevent the Shadows specifically from getting in?"

"Then don't. The trick is, one can only enter this cottage if he has no intention of harming Severus Snape." He spooned up some porridge, shrugging. "Works for me."

"Gosh. I guess you've used this place loads of times already, then."

He didn't reply, as he was busy lifting food into his mouth. Her mind lingered on him as they ate. Severus seemed calmer now he knew she was staying, though it suddenly struck Hermione how thin and exhausted her professor looked. He'd always been a slender man, but now she could see the bones right through his skin.

She frowned. "You need to eat more. How long were you running?"

"Three days, seven hours and thirteen minutes," he answered evenly, not meeting her eyes.

"Did you eat?"

"No time."

"For three days! And your wand?" Hermione pressed.

If she had expected some emotion, she was to be disappointed. The dark eyes remained steady, flat. "Broken. The Shadows took that first."

She didn't know what to say. He seemed to be done with talking for the present. Hermione was beginning to learn that the moods of Severus Snape were as changing as the sky.

But there was certainly a quality to his tone she didn't like. He sounded, Hermione thought, as though he were merely reporting the number of bird's he'd counted that day. She was willing to bet her own wand he'd gotten the habit from his years as a spy, when chance emotions were a risky thing. She watched him covertly as he ate his porridge. There was a terrible weariness in him that she had never before detected, almost...almost submission. A deep hopeless sorrow lingered on his features...but perhaps that was simply the exhaustion. Three days was a long time.

The odd pair settled to eating in silence. Hermione needed time to mull things over. She felt as though someone had rifled through her mind like a sock drawer, then purposely mismatched all the socks. And her companion didn't mind the quiet--he had grown accustomed to brooding over the years.

Hermione was trying to think of a way to describe the conversation she had the night before with Severus Snape about the Shadows. He had appeared frank and earnest, two things she had rarely perceived in him. But there was something uncharacteristically wistful in his voice that had caught her attention immediately. He had spoken entirely true words, she thought. But did he speak the entire truth?

She decided to be subtle. "Was there anything else you wanted to tell me, Professor? About the Shadows and Voldemort and everything." Okay, not so subtle. But she was a Gryffindor, and they weren't exactly known for being sneaky, were they?

Severus Snape raised his eyes slowly to her face. "I was only honest with you, Miss Granger. As promised."

Hermione wanted to ask more questions, but the man seemed to be so absorbed in his thoughts and his porridge that she didn't quite dare. They finished the meal in a silence that seemed more hollow than the one in which they had begun it. Afterwords, Hermione built up the fire some. The day was drawing in, and with it came a cold so deep it chilled her bones. She added heat spells on the window, then to the door, then by the bed for good measure.

* * *

"Is there nothing, Severus? Is there no way to save you?"

He bowed his head. Hermione took this for an affirmative, and dropped her forehead in her hands. She was on the bed, bundled under a stack of wool blankets. The two had been wracking their brains since morning, trying to come up with a means to rid Severus of the Shadow remaining within him.

And then he spoke, his voice a gentle whisper, full of despair. "There is one thing I know of...but success would come at a terrible price."

She looked up. "Go on."

He continued, reluctance thickening his speech. "Legend tells us of a stream of fire running parallel to the river Styx."

"Phlegethon?" Hermione asked wonderingly. "I had thought it nothing more than a myth."

Severus smiled. "I see you are well-versed in the realms of mythology, Hermione. Not that I'm surprised," he added, trailing his long fingers through the frost on the windowpane. He gazed outside a moment longer before speaking again. "If you were to find Phlegethon, and bring me some of the fire-water..." he trailed off, leaning heavily against the wall.

Hermione perked up. "Of course! That's what all creatures of the dark detest above all: light! Why didn't I think of that?"

Severus turned to her for the first time since mentioning the river. "Hermione...there are evils in this world far more powerful than either of us...I do not ask you to do this."

She had already made her decision. "How do I get there?"

He searched her face. "You're sure?"

Amber eyes met ebony. "I'll go, I'm certain."

He looked out the window. "Then try not to use magic for a bit. You should be safe from the Shadows, at least for a little while. It's me they want," he added with a half-hearted smile.

"If I open the door, they won't be able to come in, will they?" She joined him at the window.

"No," Severus swallowed. "In this forest are three women. They may..." he hesitated. "They may try to trick you or enchant you. But the secret pathways of the world are open to them. They might be able to help you."

"How do I find them?"

Severus seemed uncomfortable. "Well...you don't. They usually find you. You'll just have to be clever. Oh, and go look in the chest. That's where things usually pop up."

She eyed him uncertainly.

"It's where you found the bowls, remember?" Severus reminded her smiling.

Hermione made her way to the small wooden chest by the stove and sank to her knees. She shot Severus another dubious glance before lifting the lid.

He was right.

There was a haversack containing, as she soon discovered, food and drink, a heavy woolen cloak, a small comb made of bone, and two golden coins Hermione presumed were her fare into the Underworld. Nestled at the bottom Hermione found three objects: a carved wood flute, a crystal vial with a tiny silver owl on the stopper, and a golden ring formed by two bands, one an even circle, the other curling round. When Hermione slipped it on her finger, the jewel set in the center seemed to glow.

Hermione turned when she heard a small noise behind her, but Severus was impassive as ever. He had come to stand behind her while she looked at her new possessions.

"Looks like you have enough toys to keep you alive for a little while," he commented lightly.

Hermione scoffed as she unfolded the thick garb beneath the haversack. Mentally thanking Dumbledore for the spelled cottage, she lifted the items from the chest. "Turn around, will you? I want to put these on."

Severus did as she bid, and Hermione laid the clothing out on the bed, trying to work out how they fit together. There was a lighter cotton tunic and breeches with long leather boots, and a tall green robe. She put them all on.

"You can look now," Hermione called.

Severus eyed her critically. "How do you feel? Is the robe too heavy?"

"Surprisingly no. I just hope these boots don't weigh me down when they get wet."

"There's likely a waterproof charm on them, Hermione." Severus said absently. "There's something...ah." He bent down and pulled a long, thin box from under the bed.

"What is it?"

He showed her. "This girdle may come in useful."

It was a belt of silver links with amber cabochons that brought out her eyes. "It's beautiful...but how is it useful?" She asked half teasingly.

He gazed back at her solemnly. "Everything has its uses," he said, fastening it about her waist beneath the robe. "Now, are you ready?"

"Yes."

He caught her chin with one hand and searched her face. "You sure?"

"I'm certain," Hermione replied fiercely. "I'll find Phlegethon and bring you back the fire-water. And then you'll be alright."

"And then I'll be alright," he echoed, his hand warm on her skin.

She nodded, trying to look more confident than she felt.

The despair was back in his eyes, but he let her go and moved to the window. "I'll see you off then."

"Goodbye, Severus."

He didn't reply, but Hermione felt comforted knowing he was watching as she crossed the threshold into the shadowed trees.

* * *

_Author's note: Thanks for reading. I know, there was lots of dialogue, but seeing as Hermione's going off on this journey, she won't be able to talk with him for a little while. Ask, if you have any questions...and leave a comment if you liked it :-)_

_Cheers,_

_Vanya Khaleesi  
_


	3. Miles to Go Before I Sleep

_Author's Note: Updates may come sporadically (sorry, college comes first!) but I will try to post new chapters with no more than a week or two in between. Again, thanks for the comments--some people out there are quite perceptive, by the way...**wink**  
_

* * *

**Chapter Three: Miles to Go Before I Sleep**...

_  
When it comes, the Landscape listens —  
Shadows — hold their breath —  
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance  
On the look of Death_ —  
~Emily Dickinson

He watched her go, just like he promised. She was a bloom of color through the frosted windowpane, the sole speck of warmth and light for miles around him. The face of Severus Snape was, as ever, cold and hard as stone...but when her figure disappeared into the deep trees, he felt a terrible shuddering in the air, as though the flame of the cosmos had suddenly sputtered and died out...

_Hermione_, the man murmured, then collapsed.

* * *

The forest was still and wild and white. Hermione stepped silently over snow and mosses and leaves, and memories that began with hello and ended in a very long, long winter. She sang to keep up her spirits in the beginning of the journey, and recited stories to the silence. Then as the hours lengthened, she settled to humming, and then quiet contemplation.

Through her cloak kept away much of the chill, the wind cut at her cheeks and hands. She paused after a few hours to rummage through her haversack for an apple, then resumed her steady pace. One foot after the other.

She walked until darkness began to settle over the thick trees. She walked until she lost any sense of time or distance. She walked until her feet grew sore and blisters rose under her heavy leather boots. She walked until the sound of her steps echoed for years behind her and centuries ahead. She walked the whole world round.

_Let him die_, Hermione willed. _Let the winter fall and fade and be forgotten. Let me go home_.

But it wasn't in the nature of Hermione Granger to go back on a promise, much less to abandon a good man to a terrible fate.

And so she walked some more.

* * *

She didn't see the tree root that was buried beneath a foot of snow. She threw out her hands when she felt herself falling, and landed hard on her cheek, left ankle twisted under her. Her wand rolled out of sight, the lighted end vanishing.

When she came to, Hermione was numb with cold and lying face down in the snow. Her ankle throbbed painfully when she tried to move it, and she cried out. Grimacing, she rolled onto her back, then pulled herself to a sitting position.

"My wand!" Hermione began patting the snow around her frantically, trying to feel the familiar wood beneath her hands. "Come on, come on, where are you?"

When her hands became numb, she pressed them to the skin under her cloak and sat with her knees drawn up to her chest. If only she could be snug at home, making hot cocoa for her father, listening to the wild wind by a cozy fire. She pictured the scene until she could almost feel the flames licking her fingers...

And then she realized she _did_ feel flames licking her fingers.

With a startled yelp, Hermione yanked her hands from beneath the folds of her cloak. The skin on her palms and fingertips was glowing a soft tawny-red. "_Impossible_," she breathed wonderingly. When she rubbed her thumb and fingers, the fire jumped to life. Strangely, the flames Hermione saw springing from her own skin did not burn, but simply _warmed_. The feeling was so delicious that Hermione forgot to be afraid.

She gathered the fire in her hands and carefully set it into the snow. She was unsurprised when the flames caught and remained, the only source of light for miles around. Casting about, Hermione spotted her wand a few feet from where she sat, and gave a joyful cry.

She moved onto her knees and inched her way over. She felt much better with wand in hand, and immediately reset her ankle.

Deciding she could go no further that night, Hermione sat back against the tree trunk and eased the haversack off her shoulders, wincing when she felt the raw red flesh where the strap had cut into her skin. Then, with a whispered spell, she cleared a small area free of snow, edging close to her little fire. Her garb, as Severus had predicted, contained layers of waterproofing charms, so there was little need to dry herself.

Her surroundings looked much the same as they had been throughout her journey, Hermione thought. Just trees and snow and endless blackness. She fished a pastie from her bag and began munching it thoughtfully. Severus had sent her off with almost no directions. "Just walk," he'd advised, and walk she had.

And now she was profoundly lost.

"Who knows where the Underworld really is, anyway?" Hermione grumbled aloud. And then answering her own question, she added, "Those women Severus mentioned...wonder when they'll pop up. At least I'm good and lost now." She shrugged. Hermione Granger was not accustomed to not having a plan and at least two back-ups, but something told her this was alright. If only the lost found their way to the Underworld, then logically, Hermione was on the right track.

She finished her pastie and dusted the crumbs from her fingers. When Hermione had stopped, she had thought warmth and sleep were all she wanted. But food and fire had cheered her immensely, and Hermione found herself awake. Not full of energy of course, but alert and curious.

Rolling onto her side, Hermione slid her hand into her pack, and pulled out two items: the flute and the vial. The latter object was an ornate thing, woven glass sealed shut with a startlingly lifelike silver owl. In comparison, the wooden flute seemed rather plain, but Hermione lifted it to her lips nonetheless.

It gave a sweet sound, low and warm. Hermione hadn't ever learned to play an instrument, so she simply let her fingers and ears be her guide. Eventually, the music began spilling notes into the air, swirling an surrounding until there was only Hermione and the music; the plaintive melody lifted her like dozens of feather-fingers until she couldn't recall if reality had ever twisted and morphed like roiling waters before, or if it was only an echo from some ancient, primal memory.

And then her dreams began.

_Her father's reproachful face floated before her, surrounded in white. "You were making a midnight snack for us, remember? I came down and you were gone..." The eyes turned black and he disappeared.  
_

_"Dad!" Hermione called. "Dad, I'm sorry. I forgot, but come back and I'll reheat the water. It was the storm, the storm that took me!"_

_Another figure took shape out of the mists. His eyes were ebony, his smile cruel. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all." He reached out a hand to cup her cheek gently, so gently, but then the austere features twisted into a familiar sneer. "I see no difference," he said softly, and horrified, Hermione realized her teeth were growing, growing, though she tried her best to cover them with her hands. She felt the old anger stir within her, the past insecurities spill up..._

_But then the mists churned and Hermione heard again the anguished cries at her door. "Please," the man murmured tenderly. "I know you to be fair-minded. Things are not what they seem. But we are not alone in this darkness, and you must allow me inside. __Please_..."

_Hermione watched herself exit the cottage, saw the the despair in his eyes as he followed her movements. "What are you," he whispered. "What are you, that you can rule me thus?" And then he collapsed and faded to white_.

Something cut through the mists.

A figure, cloaked in gray, stepped forward and clucked knowingly. "Finding ourselves in a bit of a puzzle, are we?"

"Well you can hardly say she's found herself, can you?" asked another hooded woman, sounding grumpy. "In fact, I'd think she's more lost than ever!"

A third glided up, garbed all in white. "Poor thing! Just look, she's all confused. Can't we help the dear?"

The grumpy one laughed harshly. "She doesn't even know if we're really here or not!"

"Come now," chided the woman in gray. "It was her first time with the flute, cut her some slack. I say we help her."

"Fine," glowered the grump. "But let's do it my way!"

The other two huffed. "It's rude to play with your food, you know," warned the gray woman, but the dark one paid no mind.

Hermione stared. Her head was beginning to clear, and she suddenly realized where she was. The three women stared back.

"What am I?" quizzed the irate one abruptly, whose face was hidden under a black cowl.

"I'm sorry?" Hermione asked.

The woman cocked her head to the left appraisingly. "I said 'What am I?'"

"You? I suppose...I suppose you just _are_. A flea, the universe, what does it matter?" Hermione guessed. "I'd rather you tell me what I am, anyway."

The white woman drifted forward, watching them intently.

"Tricksy," murmured the black. "But can you do better, I wonder? Tell me girl, what happens if a loom is strung improperly?"

"What happens if a horse is not saddled properly?" Hermione answered, a smile playing about her lips. She liked this sort of game. "The horse can still run and the man can walk, but he will never be able to ride."

"Ah, very good. Just one more: will you die for the man who is dying?"

Hermione caught her breath, and the sudden worry that flooded her drowned any questions she might have blurted out about how the woman knew of Severus. "How bad is he? Tell me, have I run out of time?"

"No," said the woman in black. "But time is certainly running before you. What is your answer?"

"I...yes, of course! If it meant I could save him, I'd give my life."

"Well then," the Black replied, sounding pleased. "That will make things easier, will it not?"

There was a pause. Hermione eyed the dark one uncertainly.

The gray lady moved forward. "Good on you, Dearie," she gushed. "No one ever passes her little test anymore. In fact," she confided, "the last one was ages ago. A decade past, I think?"

"Fifty years," replied the white. "And we turned him into an eagle."

"Goodness, he wasn't too happy about that, was he?" Chuckled the gray. "He threw off the enchantment quite well, though. That's why we gave him the Book."

The woman in black answered, her gaze fixed on Hermione. "He chose it; we just let him have it. But the point my sisters are tying to make is that you are something of a rarity. Good luck," she added, somewhat unhelpfully.

"Thank you. This is all quite interesting of course, but if you don't mind my asking, why are you three here?" Hermione said.

The Gray smiled benevolently. "To save you, of course!"

"You mean you'll tell me how to find the Underworld?" Hermione gasped.

All three ladies cackled. Unsure of her part in this, Hermione stayed silent. Finally the White lady stopped, and nudged her companions to be quiet. Their laughter trailed off, and the ladies all turned their eyes to Hermione.

"My Dear, of all the questions you could have asked us..."

"You chose the one everyone knows the answer to." finished the Black, scowling at Hermione. "Put away your books and cleverness," she advised.

"What should I do then?" said Hermione, feeling suddenly foolish.

The Black reached out a gnarled hand and tapped her on the brow. "It is better that you should put out your eyes than suffer to be blind," she said softly.

There was a pause while Hermione tried to think of something to say. She grew aware of all three ladies peering at her intensely.

"No," the Black woman murmured. "Put away your thoughts. You know the answer already."

Hermione shook her head, but obediently closed her eyes. Where was she supposed to find the Underworld? A myth of a legend. No geographical location. But how could anyone believe it existed? They had to have traveled there and seen for themselves...

And then her own words, not moments past. "_If it meant I could save him, I'd give my life..._"

Hermione's heart fell like a stone.

"How do most people get there?" She bowed her head. "I must die before I can gain entrance...that is the price."

She saw the women nod soberly.

"So then the question becomes...how do I get back?"

The White lady drifted to her side. "It won't be easy. Orcus can be tricky. He may be in a bad mood."

"Or worse, he may be bored," the woman in black put in.

"But still," Hermione said quietly. "I must try."

"Try not to look so glum, Dearie," scolded the Gray. "You'll give yourself wrinkles." She used her fingers to smooth Hermione's brow. "Your tapestry is bright and long," continued the woman. "And you needn't die, anyway. Not yet."

Hermione stared. "I don't? Then how else can I get to the Underworld?"

"Through the death of another," the Black answered, seeming almost cheerful for the first time.

Hermione was numb for an instant.

Then icy horror clawed her insides. She stepped back. "No. Not that way...anything but that."

The three ladies advanced on her.

"Then go back to the Forest. Lose yourself." They seemed to be growing fainter around the edges.

A mist clouded Hermione mind, and she couldn't breathe. Her knees turned to water.

"You're asking me to murder a human being, just to get what I want. I'll find my own way..."

The White smiled sadly. "She still doesn't understand, poor chick."

Hermione blinked, trying to clear her gaze. Perhaps the women were growing sharper around the edges, while the rest of the world dulled.

"She will," the Black said sternly, and her voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. "In time."

"Remember," spoke the Lady in Gray. "Sometimes the body must fall before the soul can find what it seeks. You are flames and ash, Hermione. Flames and ash..."

And then the trio faded into white and blue and snow, and Hermione came out of her Dream with a start.

* * *

The moon was bright on Hermione's face, and she twisted onto her side. She began to shiver in her half-sleep, and desperately squirmed deeper under the folds of her cloak. There was movement around her, she sensed: the sound of rustling feet. And then she felt a hand on her forehead, soft and warm and gentle, and a fire spread from the simple touch, seeping into her bones and blood.

"Rest now, little one," Hermione heard a woman say. "Sleep is a sweet comfort...give it way."

And then she knew no more.

* * *

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Leave a comment if you like..._

_:) Vanya Khaleesi_


	4. The Board is Set

_A/N: Sorry for the long delay! I've been dreadfully busy with college and other things life decides to hurl at me. So this chapter is pretty transitional, not much happens. I tried to keep it fairly brief, and hopefully next chapter will see more action :)_

**Chapter 4: The Board is Set  
**

* * *

Orcus used the tip of his dagger to pry a pomegranate seed from its fleshy fruit, before lifting it delicately to his lips. "So you're telling me this witch, this little chit of a girl, has the Flute in her possession? And she is trying to come find me?" He pursed his lips mockingly. "Well, this should be entertaining."

The demon standing stiffly before him allowed himself a small smile. It had been too long since his master had found a plaything, he knew. Orcus had been getting dangerously close to being bored.

"Yes, my Lord," he said, watching Orcus closely. "And she is coming even closer as we speak."

"Ah, good, very good, Ravanok." He closed his eyes a moment, savoring the sweet taste of the seed. Then Orcus abruptly snapped his eyes open and pushed his chair back. "Well then," he said brightly, carelessly tossing the pomegranate back onto the platter. "Let's have a look, shall we?"

Without waiting for an answer, the god strode from the dining hall, black robes billowing behind. The demon followed his master at a slower pace. Ravanok knew how Orcus liked to play his little games with mortals; he enjoyed them himself, certainly, and had assisted Orcus on many occasions. But this one was different, he felt...there was a fire in this human's eyes. Well, he thought, running his tongue along sharp teeth, that would just be more fun for him. He liked playing with fire.

Orcus made his way swiftly through his castle, knowing intimately every loose flagstone, every hidden corridor and nook. At last, he arrived at his garden, a grim and wild-looking place with twisted vines and ivy and tall, gnarled trees. Rock formations surrounded a pool of clear water in which dwelt no life of any kind. He bent to it, and let his fingers trail over the surface, gazing intently into the depths.

"Show me, my sweet, show me the girl," commanded the god softly. His eyes narrowed. "Show me this '_Hermione Granger_'.

For a moment, the waters remained still. Then ripples appeared, flowing out from Orcus' hand, and Ravanok leaned forward for a better look.

_A girl appeared, lying in the snow by a small fire. She held a wooden flute to her lips, and, eyes closed, was playing a soft, plaintive melody. Then the song began to change, growing darker and harder, as shapes swirled over the snow..._

The waters shivered, and another image swam up.

_"A flea, the universe, what does it matter?" asked the girl, a smirk forming around her lips. "I'd rather you tell me what I am, anyway..."_

_The Three cackled, and then one asked sharply, "Will you die for the man who is dying?"_

_A cloud passed over the girl's face, before a grim determination settled over her features. "Yes. If it meant I could save him, I'd give my life--"_

There was another movement in the water_._ This vision seemed blurred strangely, as though unwilling to appear through the water that forced it. Though he made no movement, beads of sweat pearled on the god's brow.

_ The girl was sleeping, curled and limp on the snow, a thick cloak covering her form. She was accompanied by a woman, red-haired and fair, who rested a white hand on the girl's brow, soothing her into a deep dreamless sleep.._.

When the vision disappeared, Orcus knelt for a moment, perfectly still. Ravanok wisely kept his silence until his master spoke softly.

"So _she's_ getting involved in this," he said quietly, his face darkening. "I had wondered if the others were up to something."

Orcus cupped the water, letting it run through his long white fingers. Ravanok watched him, still wary, as the god continued.

"The Three have found her already. And she passed their test." He snatched his hand back from the pool as though it had burned him, and rose gracefully to his feet.

The demon shrugged. "She has not mastered the Flute yet, my Lord. Nor did the Three bother to inform her of its true powers. Surely--"

"They let her go!" Orcus snapped, glaring at his servant. "Do you even know how long it's been since someone answered their questions and got away with it?"

Ravanok stepped back, respectfully bowing his head. "No, my Lord."

"Well, I do. And did you notice anything else? Anything peculiar on her hand?" He slapped his fingers on the silvery trunk of a tree. "The Ring! She has the Ring. How did she manage to find it, when I, the Lord of the Underworld, after centuries of work..." He trailed off abruptly, and fastened his gray eyes on the demon. "But no matter, no matter. Her companion will help her find her way here, and then we will have our way with her, as we always do with those mortals."

"As you command, Lord Orcus." Ravanok said softly, keeping his eyes averted.

"I do," sniffed the god, whose temper seemed to have vanished as quickly as it had sprung up. "She will give us the Ring and the Flute and her soul, and you shall enjoy her almost as much as I will. For now, however, we shall wait."

"Yes," answered Ravanok, smiling grimly in answer to the sudden predatory gleam in the god's eyes. "We shall wait."

* * *

Hermione awoke at the first light, feeling warm and well-rested. Yawning, she pulled herself to a sitting position, glancing around.

She jumped when her eyes lit on the tall woman with flaming hair, who was seated a few yards away, stroking a white and tawny owl. "Oh! Who are--what are you doing here?" Hermione stuttered.

The lady turned, and Hermione was suddenly met with vivid sea-green eyes. She smiled. "I am glad you're finally awake. Sleep well?"

"I...yes, thank you, as well as can be expected." Hermione watched the woman warily. She didn't seem a threat, and, Hermione wryly thought, if the woman had meant to harm her, she would have done so while she was sleeping. Not wanting to give offense, but needing answers all the same, she chose her next words carefully, palming the wand she had stowed in her sleeve. "It is good to see another person in this wild place; but who are you? Where are you journeying to?"

"You can call me Briony," said the woman, smiling warmly. "You're right, Hermione, it is lonely in these woods, and dangerous besides. It is safer, I think, to travel in numbers."

Hermione returned the smile cautiously. Briony seemed benevolent enough, though Hermione didn't miss her her evasion of the second question. And she was more than slightly unsettled that Briony somehow knew her name. Shrugging, she pulled some bread and fruit from her haversack, and a flask of water. Still no reason not to be friendly.

"Care for some breakfast?" Hermione offered.

Soon Briony and Hermione were companionably sitting by a merry fire with toast, apple, and a spicy, warming tea. While eating, Hermione decided that, whoever Briony really was, she was willing to accept her help. The woman seemed to know much of living in the wild, and more, she felt..._good_. Hermione had caught no bad vibes or sinister intentions, and she trusted her instincts. They were usually right.

They set out immediately after eating. Hermione had revealed nothing of her quest...yet Briony seemed to know which direction to go, and simply expected Hermione to follow. Despite her bookworm tendencies, Hermione was quickly realizing that Briony knew way more about...well, everything than Hermione did. And she was wicked observant, often pointing out wild animals Hermione would never have seen, and half of which she did not even recognize. She seemed constantly alert, her sea-green eyes noting the easiest paths, quirking her head every now and again to listen to the noises of the forest.

At noon, the companions halted briefly by a stream for a midday meal. Briony opened her cloak slightly to check on her owl, whom she had stowed safely in her pocket. The bird had been napping contentedly, nestled against the warmth of Briony's side; now, he blinked his eyes crossly in the daylight.

Briony chuckled. "Just checking on you, no need to glare at me, Argos." The owl eyed her balefully. "Alright, alright, go back to sleep, I won't bother you again."

"He's beautiful," Hermione remarked, fascinated by his eyes, which appeared to match those of his mistress. "I've never seen that coloring in an owl."

The woman pulled her cloak more snugly about her shoulders, still smiling. "Don't let Argos hear you complimenting him, Hermione; his head is too big as it is." Whispering confidentially, she added, "I rather agree with you, though. He is quite an unusual bird."

"How so?" Hermione asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

"As grumpy as he likes to be sometimes, Argos is utterly loyal to me. And he can signal me when the darkness approaches."

Hermione twisted her fingers in her lap. "I had a cat. Crookshanks. He hated everyone but me," she said, smiling sadly at the recollection.

Briony nodded sympathetically, bright eyes intent upon the girl.

"And he was very clever. He knew things Ro--my friends and I didn't."

"Animal wisdom," said Briony, tilted her head thoughtfully. "There are some who believe people can someday gain enough human knowledge to remember the animals' wisdom."

Hermione perked up. "How do you mean?"

"It begins with an understanding of the facts, cold hard science. And then, once you learn as much as you can that way, your comprehension expands, eventually transcending empirical evidence. You become aware of everything as it is nothing."

Hermione frowned. "Everything as it is nothing? How is that possible?"

The woman seemed far off for an instant. "Perhaps you will understand, in time. The universe is contained inside a single grain of sand; one could not exist without the other." Briony gathered her pack and stood, eying her sternly, "But we digress. You don't have much time, Hermione."

The girl copied the woman's example in silence, mulling over the strange statement. How much did this woman know?

After washing their hands in the freezing water of the stream, they resumed their journey, walking, walking, walking through the endless trees.

* * *

Severus Snape was eating supper, feeling restless as a caged hydra. He had spent much of the day brooding, and the rest of it reading. But no matter how he tried to take his mind off things, he could not sit back and let others do the dirty work. No, he had always been a man of action.

So he had asked the chest for books, on every subject that might help. Now the old tomes, dozens of them, were stacked in untidy piles throughout the cabin. Yet still, his search thus far was fruitless.

He began pacing slowly. He was still weak, but old habits died hard. How could he have let Hermione go? She was brilliant, yes, but innocent still. She hadn't even graduated from Hogwarts, and now she was taking on an impossible quest, on an impossible hope that she might save him. He harrumphed. What was it with her and saving people?

Severus carded his fingers through his hair wearily. At least she had had some experience on impossible quests; Potter and the youngest Weasley boy had carted her off on various harebrained schemes over the years. He shuddered to think what might have happened to the boys without her influence.

Well, he thought grimly, at least he had a means of checking up on her.

He went to the wooden chest, concentrating on his need for scrying materials. When he lifted the lid, a gleaming silver basin filled to the brim with clear water met his eyes, and he smirked. Thank Merlin for Albus' brilliance.

Taking care not to spill, Severus carried the basin to the table, where he sat and closed his eyes for a moment, relaxing his muscles and clearing his mind. When he felt ready, the man placed his left hand on the pendant that hung about his neck, his right fingers lightly upon the water. "_Fiat veritas_," he murmured. "_Fiat veritas, fiat veritas_."

Opening his eyes, Severus let his mind sink, entranced, into the water.

He saw Hermione, laughing, munching on an apple. She was swathed in that heavy cloak she had set out in, and seemed to be speaking with someone. Frowning, Severus bent closer to the water, squinting at the tall red-haired figure.

His eyes widened.

"It cannot be..." He breathed. Shaking his head, he said softly, "Well, I suppose even she sees something in you, Hermione. And that's something."

Feeling marginally better, Severus withdrew from the vision. Wishing he had a wand, Severus fetched a rough cloth to cover the basin, and then slid under the covers of his bed.

Perhaps there was some hope, after all.

But that night his dreams were dark and murky, his head filled with the sinister voices of the Shadows he knew too well. He saw a flame in the night, burning bright, but the Shadows were circling like crows, and he could feel their power growing. In the clutches of his nightmare, Severus cried a desperate warning to Hermione, to the flame, to his only hope--

And then the darkness fell upon him.

* * *

Caught in sleep, Hermione shifted and turned, unable to find peace. When she awoke, she remembered nothing of her dreams, but felt infused with a sudden urgency. She looked at the woman sleeping deeply a few feet away, and bit her lip. She had been so quick to trust her...did she really know as much as Hermione expected? Or was it simply Hermione's desire for someone to give guidance that made her perceive Briony as such?

A frown creased her brow as Hermione rose and went to sit on one of the boulders away from camp. It was bizarre, inexplicable, but true. She needed Briony. Hermione couldn't explain how she knew, but she felt it deep in her bones. The question was _why_? And where was she leading them?

* * *

Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated :)

~Vanya


	5. My Shadow Pinned

Here's another chapter, my good readers. As always, ask questions if you have them, and enjoy the story :)

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**Chapter Five: My Shadow Pinned**

_In a dark time, the eye begins to see,_  
_ I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;_  
_ I hear my echo in the echoing wood-_  
_ A lord of nature weeping to a tree  
_~Theodore Roethke_  
_

Pink and golden shafts of light ran across the eastern sky. Hermione, huddled under her cloak, was sitting silently, fingers cupping a small fire she had conjured. Her eyes moved to her sleeping companion and rested thoughtfully on the graceful form. There was a quiet peace in the woman, Hermione felt...something deep and strongly rooted, touchable by nothing on earth.

_Would that I could find such solace...but how?_ Hermione knew much of history and theory, some runes and science. She could perform spells and charms far beyond the level of her peers. But that was the extent of her knowledge; Hermione had never given much thought to her spiritual life. Her mother had been Christian and her father Jewish, and the family had always celebrated Christmas and Easter, but it went no further than that. Knowledge had always been her religion, and compassion her spirituality. Was it enough?

Briony stirred, and Hermione shifted her eyes back to the rising sun. The warmth of it was gradually creeping onto her face, and a small unbidden smile came to her lips. She could hear Briony packing up her bedroll and folding her extra cloak carefully behind her. She ought to do the same.

'Morning,' she said, glancing at the woman.

Briony smiled at her, more warmly than the dawn. 'Good morning, Hermione. You were up early.'

'Yes,' Hermione replied. 'Just thinking things over. Want to eat breakfast on the move?'

Briony handed her some nutbread and a flask of cold mint tea. 'Two steps ahead of you, dear.'

oOo

By the time the sun was fully in the sky, Hermione and Briony had made good progress. Hermione found she enjoyed the hike through the deep still forest, cold though it was. But when they stopped for water at a half-frozen stream, Hermione knew something wasn't right.

She twisted the ring on her finger, watching as Briony removed a dagger from her belt and used it to crack a hole in the ice. 'Briony?'

'Yes?' She answered, eyes on her work.

'I noticed we haven't seen any animals today. Are we just too high up? And the sky looks...strange.'

Briony handed her a flask full of water. 'It's the Shadows,' she replied calmly.

'What?" Hermione asked, alarmed.

'They've been hunting you. We have maybe a few minutes until they find us.' There was a mildness in her voice that unnerved Hermione.

'Shouldn't we prepare? Cast wards or find a place to hide? _Something_! Why aren't we doing anything?'

Briony stood, her own flask full. She glanced at Hermione, looking supremely untroubled. 'We have been preparing since you met me. Didn't you notice?'

She stared incredulously. 'I beg your pardon? How do you know about the Shadows anyway?' Hermione heard the shrillness in her voice, but simply didn't care.

Against the sudden gray of the world, Briony was all vivid color. Sea-green eyes, hair a mane of red. She was tall for a woman, though slender and lithe. Briony fastened that green gaze on Hermione now. 'Child,' she said, and all the weight of winter was in her voice. 'Open your eyes.'

The woman reached out with long white fingers and and cupped her cheeks, and as Hermione looked into the fair face, she felt herself sinking, the green all around her. _What does she mean? I'm staring right at her_.

Something was pulling her in, some irresistible force that had known her since the beginning. A yearning swept over her, though she knew not what for. _Open your eyes_. Hermione let herself be drawn in, following the lead of the red woman. With a jolt, she saw the world through emerald eyes.

_The Shadows were ancient, but this was only their beginning. They flew, circling like crows, vast and furious and hungry. She watched as one paused a moment for a bird that had been flying frantically, trying to get away. The Shadow reached out, savoring the desperation and fear, before easily grasping it out of the air with tentacles of darkness, crushing the shrieking bird to itself. Hermione saw the little light sputter, slow, fade to nothing. And there was more, an entire world engulfed in darkness for the greed of a single man. _

_The Shadows fed off anger and fear, she realized. There was nothingness in the heart of the blackness, so it ached for something to fill it up. The more it took, the hungrier it became, even unto the ending of all life. _

_Then, like a flash of sunlight caught in smoke, Hermione felt Briony beside her. 'There is the weakness of a Shadow, Hermione. Use it, and you will conquer them. Remember_, _in a dark time, the eye begins to see...'_

_Hermione understood, and she bowed her head. Briony ran her thumb over her cheek, then released her, and Hermione saw the world again._

The golden light of the sun was gone, replaced by gray and black clouds. Hermione tied her haversack tightly against her waist. The Shadows were coming, she could feel them now as a violent pulsing in the air, a bitter taste in her mouth. Her eyes began to water with the pressure.

Briony slipped into Hermione's mind. _Do you trust me, Hermione?_

_Of course,_ she replied unhesitatingly.

Hermione saw them. A great evil touched at her mind, wanting to claw and rip and tear, feel the blood and the pulsing, aching life...

And then the sea of green that was Briony lifted the twisted presence from her mind, holding it at bay. _Let me borrow your fire, Hermione, just for a moment_.

She didn't understand, and sent a question to Briony.

_Let it go_.

The fire left her feeling barren and lonely, as though stranded in an icy sea. The green was fading around her.

_Now run, Hermione, _run.

Blindly, trembling with fear, Hermione ran. As her body moved, her mind understood. Briony was offering her life so that Hermione might survive. She looked back.

The Shadows were drawn to Briony's borrowed light and flame like moths, believing her to be Hermione. A soundless scream left her mouth as she saw the proud form be devoured, helpless and willing, by the black clouds that hunted her soul.

But then Hermione felt the green presence in her mind again. _I need not have died in vain, Hermione._..

And as though time had looped, Hermione heard herself speaking to the sister in black. H_ow else can I get to the Underworld?_

_Through the death of another_, came the reply, and Hermione felt the tears wet on her cheeks. She nodded, slowly, sorrowfully, and Briony sent her a smile as warm and golden as the sun.

Then, disregarding the chaos behind her, Hermione ran to follow the spirit that was departing. She reached out, lost her balance, but grasped hold. In a rush, heat coursed through her body, flushing out the fear and loss, and Hermione knew that her fire had been returned. Colors spread around her, wheeling streams of light and dark and nothingness, so vast and bright that she covered her eyes. Dimly, she heard the Shadows raging after her, furious at the escape of their quarry, but it was nothing. The darkness now was pure and silent and calm.

Hermione dared to open her eyes.

She stood at the foot of a fast-moving river beside a hooded figure, and through her wonder, perceived the shadow of a great owl stretching his wings above her.

oOo

'I know who you are, boatman, and I would gain entrance here,' Hermione called.

The shadow moved closer. 'And what do you bring in exchange for passage?'

Hermione grimaced inwardly. How had she forgotten that bit? But Severus' voice came into her mind, and a whisper of his dry smile. _Use your wits, girl. Once you know what he wants, you can move him_. She spun to face him, eyes seeking the boatman's own. He stood, swathed in the darkness, but for the flash of keen blue eyes glimmering from beneath his hood.

Then it came to her. 'I have no obol for you, Charon, but I bring gift of another kind.'

He made a movement forward, peering at her with interest. 'No, no, you are not dead. Only the dead brave the passage here, and none can return. You can have nothing to offer me, nor I to you.'

'Not even a song?' Hermione asked, raising the flute. She knew he would refuse. Orpheus had played here once, long ago, but Hermione could make no music like that, and illusions had no meaning down here, in the land of the dead.

Charon shook his head. 'No.'

'A kiss, then?' Hermione asked, smiling. She stepped closer to Charon, closer to his wooden boat. _Say no,_ she prayed. _It's the third offer he must accept, the third!_ She was certain, though she couldn't have said how she knew.

Charon stepped backward, away from the water, away from her. 'Not even your kiss could sway me.'

Pulse racing, Hermione moved her hands quickly, snuffing out the little lamp that stood the end of the boat. 'Then be swayed by this, Charon: take me across the river safely, and I'll return your fire.'

Charon stood still. Hermione knew his clever mind was searching for a way out. At length, he bowed his head. 'Return the fire, and I'll bring you to the other side.'

Hermione shook her head. 'Take me across now. I'll carry the fire myself, and light the lamp when I'm back on safe ground.'

He knew he'd been beaten. Hermione stepped onto the narrow wood first, bearing a small flame high in the still, damp air.

oOo

Orcus smiled grimly beneath the veil of his helm of darkness. He was invisible to mortals while wearing the helm, and had observed many trying to barter with the boatman unnoticed. But this little firebird was doing quite well, better than he had expected. The god followed the two silently. When they reached the shore, he watched the girl repay the boatman with a taste of her fire. _Honorable little thing, that one_. He could use that to his advantage indeed.

He thought her eyes swept over him curiously once, which was impossible, of course, since he was invisible. The helm didn't shield him from others hearing him; he would have to go quietly.

Orcus nodded to Charon briefly, then continued behind the girl. Her stride was swift, purposeful over the rocky path. He drew level with her and eyed her face curiously. Hermione Granger didn't look much like the other heroes he had seen down here, no, she was far too innocent. A smooth noble brow gave way to soft cheeks and mouth, though strength was belied by the stubborn chin. Her features were delicate, framed by a tangle of cinnamon curls, pretty enough, he supposed. It was the girl's eyes that gave hint to the true beauty, however: amber and golden they were, full of fire and brilliant with determination. _A worthwhile conquest indeed, _Orcus thought.

After a while, just when he was growing bored, the girl spoke. Orcus nearly jumped out of his skin when she paused and looked directly at him.

'I don't suppose you know where the river Phlegethon is, do you?'

He pretended nonchalance, as though he had known she could see him. 'I can take you there. But why not come see my castle first? It's quite lovely, I assure you.'

'No, thank you,' Hermione replied. She glanced sideways at him. 'I'm on a bit of a time squeeze, you see.'

'Ah, for your precious Severus, no doubt.' The snide remark was out before he could stop it. Orcus grimaced inwardly. That was something he certainly didn't want her to know he was aware of. _Bother_.

The girl didn't bat an eyelash. 'Yes, it is for Severus. Will you help me or not?'

'Very well.' He said gravely.

She nodded. 'Thanks.' The girl turned back and set out on the path again.

She wasn't going to get her way that easily. He took her arm. 'You must come see my home first, however.' And without waiting for her consent, Orcus spirited them to his palace, ignoring her startled cry.

Hermione Granger fixed him with a stern eye when they landed. 'That was entirely rude, and just the sort of thing I ought to have expected from a god like you.'

'Can't say I'm sorry,' Orcus said, spreading his hands disarmingly. 'What, my dear, makes you so certain of my divinity?'

'Your arrogance, quite possibly,' Hermione retorted. 'But mostly I knew because one doesn't see many other beings strutting about in helms of darkness.

He paled, though the muted light concealed it. 'And how did you see through that?'

She looked at him silently with sphinx eyes.

'A spell, perhaps? No,' Orcus mused. 'No, not strong enough.' He rubbed his chin, mind racing. Then it hit him, so obvious he wondered why he didn't see it before, and he fought a glower. 'Or could it be the trinket you're wearing on your finger, hmm? No doubt about it.'

'My ring?' Hermione asked, glancing down. 'You know what it does?'

'You don't?' At her raised eyebrows, he shrugged carefully, keeping his tone light. 'I've heard of enchanted jewels that can aid in seeing through concealing magics.

'Hmm,' the girl replied pensively. Abruptly, she changed topics. 'You do have lovely gardens.'

'What?' He asked, surprised. Mortals hated his grounds.

She nodded. 'It's sort of lonely and quiet, so far. But almost sacred, as though I were walking upon the very core of the world...there's a purity in the emptiness, a strength in the desolation.'

Her simple answer touched something in him, some secret joy he thought belonged to him alone. Orcus glanced down at her. 'My dear, I quite agree.'

They resumed their swift pace, and soon enough, the palace loomed above them. It was a grim affair of stone and wood and iron, tall and unforgiving. Orcus motioned, and the front gates swung open, revealing an inner courtyard with smaller buildings and the main towers. The girl looked about wonderingly, not bothering to conceal the curiosity in her face.

He guided her smugly through the entrance into the banquet hall, where a wide spread of food waited. Damson wine, thick mead, ale dark as forest soil. Silver platters of cheeses, oranges, starfruit, and pomegranates; there were flans and pasties, pies, roasted turkeys and honeyed boar. Anything and everything Hermione Granger could wish for, all on the tables. _A few mouthfuls and she'll be mine_.

She sat down cautiously.

Orcus took the seat next to her, sweeping a linen serviette across his lap. He smiled at her. 'Now, young lady, you are about to taste the rich food of the Underworld.'

Hermione returned the grin, and brought a pomegranate seed to her lips.

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A/N: As those of you who know mythology are aware, this could mean trouble :) Thanks for reading.

-Silly Little Sparrow


	6. His Ravenous Eyes

_A/N: Apologies for taking so long! I will try my best to update more often...hope you still enjoy the story!_

**Chapter 6: His Ravenous Eyes**_  
_

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Orcus turned his eyes to the vaulted ceiling and smirked. It was always pomegranate seeds that captured his prey. Mortals were so easily enticed.

He helped himself to the juicy seeds and surveyed the girl before him, who was taking a swig from her goblet of sweet damson wine. The food seemed to have loosened that pink tongue of hers: she chattered amiably as they sat. Eying her bouncing curls, those strange sphinx eyes, too old for such an innocent face, he found he did not mind her prattling.

'So I really don't know how much you gods know or care of our mortal affairs, but I think it'd be a fascinating study. Of course we have scholars who speculate, but they really have no basis in fact, so I was hoping I could maybe interview you whilst I'm here...'

Orcus smiled indulgently. Why not tell her anything she wanted to know? She would never leave his domain. So he spoke easily of those grand days of golden priests and rich smoke and sacrifices of fatty thigh pieces. He told her about the emperors and great warriors who once walked the earth, of grisly battles and wondrous creatures. The girl's face shone with excitement and, he fancied, a touch of yearning for those times.

Eventually, their conversation turned to Hermione's quest. 'How much do you know, anyway? About Severus and Voldemort and all?'

He pressed the tips of his fingers together. 'I know that the creature Voldemort is a fool. A powerful fool, clever in his day. But he was greedy, thinking he could be as a god.'

'He thought to be like you,' Hermione interjected.

'Yes, like _me_. Can you imagine? Anyway, to make a long story short, he attempted to merge too much wild power into his own. The result...well, you've seen him yourself, my girl. How did you find him?'

'Ugly, sir. He was nothing like a god.'

'Nothing like me, precisely. You see what happens when mortals dabble with godly powers.' Orcus shrugged. 'One should always be aware of his limitations. Or hers,' he added, giving her a sly look from beneath a dark lock.

'Oh, I wouldn't know what to do with such power!' Hermione exclaimed. 'I'm much better off the way I am, I think. Do you also know as much about Severus?'

He swallowed a grimace. Severus. That man again. He would have hoped she had forgotten by now...but no matter. She was merely a curious girl. 'He is hardly of consequence. His life belongs to the Shadows now...they held him for too long.'

'Yes,' said Hermione in a small voice. 'I came here to help him, I think. There was a woman, too, she...I can't quite remember. It's all like a dream to me now.' She shrugged, and a pink smile crept over her face when she looked at him. 'I suppose it wasn't too important. Wish I knew who that woman was, though...'

'Ah, your Briony. Yes, she and I go way back...she's a goddess, you know.'

'A goddess?' The girl breathed.

'Just so. Her older name is Brighid.'

'The Exalted One! Goddess of healing and poetry and fire?' Hermione asked sharply.

Orcus frowned. For a moment, the chit sounded far too lucid, her eyes seemed far too knowing.

But then she smiled again, blinking prettily up at him. 'I made it my business to study you gods when I was a little girl. And now I see you, so tall and powerful...' Her eyes darkened. 'And so handsome.'

'Just so,' Orcus repeated, staring down at her. He continued absentmindedly. 'I was surprised when she came to you. She rarely helps mortals nowadays...and even the Moirae have taken an interest in your affairs. It seems the other gods have their own designs for you and the Shadows.' He touched her cheek lightly. 'You are a fine witch, my dear, but I don't quite understand what power you could have against them. After all, you are only a girl.'

'Only a girl?' Hermione asked.

'My girl, if you like.' Orcus moved his other arm, drawing her near to him. Her lips were colored a deep plum from the wine; he moved to kiss them.

But then she laughed.

Orcus drew back, astonished, confusion storming within his breast. Hermione stood tall, eyes blazing, and in that moment it seemed she grew more powerful, as though she had cast a cloak from her shining body.

'Who are you?' He demanded, voice cold.

Hermione let the fire rise in her. 'I can only be to you as you perceive me.'

He snorted, keeping his gaze trained on hers. 'Give me a real answer, woman!'

'What do you want me to say? You looked with your eyes and saw softness and innocence, no doubt. A toy to please you. That is why you don't understand.'

'Fool,' Orcus snarled. 'Did you think to deceive _me_? A god?'

The young woman shrugged. 'Well, Yes. And I succeeded, didn't I? You had information I needed, I saw a way to get it. You could have looked farther.' She drew three pomegranate seeds from her pocket and considered them wonderingly. 'I am glad you did not.'

'I saw you eat. I watched you drink. You should be mine.'

'Lucky for me, then, that I know mythology. I know your past.'

Orcus struck his chair; it fell loudly onto its side. She was right, he should have seen the power coursing through her veins and sparking from her body like lightning. How could he have been so blind?

'Poseidon's pants,' he murmured.

'Indeed.'

He fixed his eyes on the woman before him. Already his anger was fading into resentment and something like awe. This was the girl to defeat the Shadows. He knew it now without a doubt.

'Now,' she said, all business once more. 'Tell me how to help Severus.'

Orcus sneered. 'Ah, your precious Severus. You would try to save him, wouldn't you? How childish.'

Hermione didn't bat an eyelash. 'Yes, well. After all, I am only a girl.'

The god paused for a heartbeat. 'Stay with me.'

That took her off guard. 'What?'

'I can give you all the jewels you like. Fine gowns made from cloth-of-gold, silver brocades, gold and amber for your hair, diamonds for your neck and emeralds for your arms. You shall have a library to read, everything you can imagine. Just stay and be mine.'

'I must go back.'

'I shall teach you how to use your powers, show you how to do anything.'

'No.'

Orcus was drawn to her fire like a moth to the lamp. 'Stay and be my queen. Rule the Underworld with me and be my love. I'll be true to you.' Orcus came up behind her and encircled her with his arms. 'Just say the word, and it will be so. Imagine...ten thousand men to cry your name in adoration. Knowledge, power. Armies at your command. And you are beautiful, Hermione. So very lovely.'

He felt her shiver as he ran his hands down her waist, letting them rest on her hips.

'Lovely and powerful. But innocent. Think of all I could show you...' He pulled back her hair and kissed her white throat. Her skin burned like a flame beneath his lips. '_Hermione_.'

But though she trembled under his attentions, she was firm in her decision. 'I will leave here when I have what I came for.'

Lips pulling back in a vicious snarl, the god thrust her against a wall, one hand cutting off her breath. 'You will do as I command you!'

He let her struggle there for a moment, enjoying the fear in her eyes. Let her feel his power! The sky outside had darkened with his rage, heavy clouds massing above. He loosed his hold, and the girl slumped to her knees, nearly passed out. He stood above her, breathing heavily, watching her recover. He bent until his mouth barely touched her neck. 'You will rue this day,' he told her gently, before grasping her close again, and with a _clap_, he transported them to the red shore of the river Phlegethon.

Hermione's hair covered her features, but when she rose to her feet, she tossed her head and surveyed the god evenly. 'Perhaps I will. But I made the only choice I could.'

When she knelt by the water and drew her wand, conjuring a glass vial, Orcus coughed.

Her eyes flicked to him. 'What is it?'

He spread his hands. 'A payment is required.'

A frown curled her lips. 'I should have known. What do you want?'

'Oh, you mustn't ask me what I want of you, young one.' He loomed over her and smirked when her lip trembled. 'But I will let this pass, for now. All I ask of you in return is three drops of blood.'

Hermione was wary. 'What will you do with them?'

'What would anyone do with mortal blood? I think that's more than fair: three drops of your blood for three of my pomegranate seeds. No, my dear, I will not barter with you. Take it or leave it.'

The young woman froze a moment, deciding. He knew she was trying to think of some clever way around it. But he also knew she was aware of the time ticking slowly away from her.

'Very well. You may have my blood. But,' she added forcefully, 'but you must give me enough fire-water to save Severus _and _transport me back to him.'

Orcus nodded swiftly. 'Done.' He held out his hand, but when she reached out to shake it, he grabbed her wrist instead, turning her palm over and running his cold fingers along the near-invisible web of veins beneath. To his disappointment, she didn't struggle against him, but watched him impassively. Orcus released her silently. She might think she had won this little battle, but in truth she had already lost everything. No matter what the other gods or fates saw fit to give her.

He reached with his mind to Ravanok, summoning the demon to the shore. A hulking creature he was, long-armed and with teeth sharpened to vicious points. Demons were long-lived, but not immortal; the years had curved his spine, hunching him over like a dog huddled over a scrap of red meat. He eyed the girl hungrily.

_Are you through with her? _The demon asked him soundlessly.

_Not yet. _Regretfully. _I need you to take three drops of her blood. She'll give it willingly._

_Willingly?_ Ravanok thought back incredulously.

_Willingly._ The god confirmed. _Don't hurt her more than you must...but have a little fun while you're at it.  
_

Aloud, Orcus greeted the demon. 'Ravanok, meet our guest. Hermione Granger.'

Her eyes widened a little, seeing the demon approach. His bulk was vast, though he managed to be quick on his feet_..._and when he saw her watching, he _smiled_ at her.

Hermione inclined her head at his approach; she had learned long since it paid to be courteous when possible. There was something alarming about the length of his arms, the heavy jutting of the demon's head, that made her wonder if she wasn't about to become a meal...and oh, those eyes, sharp and glimmering with intelligence. For all her fear, however, Hermione stood her ground. She faced him squarely, unflinching when he circled her. When she bared her wrists calmly, she thought she detected a hint of bewilderment in Ravanok; Orcus only rolled his eyes. Apparently they were accustomed to more exciting prey._  
_

She made no movement when he drew the silver blade across the palm of her hand, and nor did she cry out in pain. Orcus waved her fingers, and three crimson drops rose in the air and arranged themselves into the clear crystal her wore about his neck. When the blood entered, the crystal glowed a sharp red, and the god tucked it safely beneath his doublet. He fixed cold eyes on her again.

'Very well. If you will be so good as to take my arm...a little more firmly, my dear, and now we can be off.'

* * *

Severus shivered in his little bed in his little cabin. He had taken a turn for the worse after scrying for so long...and Hermione was so far away. His dreams, as always, were dark and shifting, blending horribly with reality, so that he often knew not where or when he was. In his feverish state, he watched the flames flickering in the fireplace, his rational mind aware that he must be inside the cabin. Yet sometimes those flames seemed like a river, flowing for endless miles, red with heat, and he was forced again to walk the roads of his life.

Or else he dreamed of Hogwarts, that he was teaching once more, but the only student there was Hermione. He was trying to explain the usefulness of bronze daggers as opposed to silver, but his words spilled out in gibberish, growing larger and filling the room with Hermione's uncomprehending stare. He was still trying desperately to speak with her when the Shadows appeared suddenly and pulled him away, up and out the window, and there Hermione was, waving politely at him as he went.

Severus dreamed, and one cold sane sliver inside him knew it for a dream. But then, like a rush of ice water in his mind, he _saw_ Hermione clearly, arms open as a massive demon approached, baring sharp teeth glittering with venom. The demon drew a blade against her unresisting skin, and he watched the blood-crimson water of life!-flow into a pendant on the neck of a god...a god whose eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction, leering at the small figure before him. A note of admiration welled in him, seeing the girl's eyes blaze into the immortal's. But that feeling quickly dissolved when, as if privy to the mind of the tall god, a violent laughter sounded in his head, tall and filled with rage and frightening possessiveness. _Mine_.

Hermione! Came the swelling cry from deep within him-and then nothingness entered, and he knew no more.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Let me know if you like where this is going :)_

_Little Sparrow_


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